


Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine Adventure

by fitzsimmonsshield



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, fitzsimmons - Fandom
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, i resurrected agent yauch whatevs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 10:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3352520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzsimmonsshield/pseuds/fitzsimmonsshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz has been ignoring Jemma Simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day Jess!

Fitz had been in the garage for weeks. Each time Jemma would come down to visit him he would immediately shoo her away, pulling a curtain down to block her view. Jemma was unsure of whether to feel offended that Fitz was closing her out of his life, but his excitement and enthusiasm for whatever project he was working on was contagious. Jemma gave him his space but couldn’t keep her curiosity at bay.

She turned to Skye, who she had come across huddled over and whispering with Fitz one day in a hallway near the garage. Skye remained an impassable vault. Jemma resigned herself to use her mind and find out what truly was up with Fitz. She kept an eye on Skye, to see if her behavior became erratic. Skye was always hunched over her computer, and sometimes, when Jemma would get too near she would tilt the screen down. Usually, Jemma would receive a mumbling about a secret Coulson wanted her to work on.

So naturally, Jemma followed the trail to Coulson. The team patriarch was always cryptic, but there was nothing telltale of hiding secrets from Jemma currently. Jemma’s trail fizzled out at Coulson. Feeling defeated, she did what she did best, and buried her head in work.

Despite the medical lab being alive with whistles and buzzes, it was much lonelier than the lab she shared with Fitz. The one Fitz barred her from stepping into. He had even installed a butler robot to stop her whenever she was rounding around the hallway. She only saw him at meals and for weeks she pondered if this was going to be the norm.

What had changed? Did she do something to merit this treatment? It was weighing on her. Normally Jemma was quite good and separating her emotions from her work, but Fitz was her partner and she sorely missed using him to support her work.

The days continued to be marked off the calendar. Missions had come and gone. Jemma awoke on her birthday expecting the same monotonous routine. Except, something had changed. After hitting her alarm and stretching out of bed, a pretty pastel colored envelope propped up on her bureau caught the corner of her eyes.

Jemma was inscribed on the front. The font looked like Fitz’ best attempt to write in an elegant lettering, but ended up still being his miserable chicken-scratch. However disappointed in him he had been over the past few weeks slid aside. She smiled at the envelope before sliding the card out.

 

Jemma,

 

Get dressed and have breakfast (already prepared for you). When you’re ready we will be in the lab waiting for you.

 

The card was left unsigned. With a smile fully formed on Jemma’s face, she proceeded with her normal morning routine, had a delicious plate of fresh pancakes and fruit, and tried her best to walk normally down to the lab.

This time around, there was no robot shooing her from the hallway, but the windows that had been covered in black curtains were open. Jemma could see the whole team waiting for her on the other side. She tried to subdue the blood rush to her cheeks, but after weeks of feeling left out, she was so relieved.

Fitz stood at the center, his hands in the pockets of his cardigan. He had that boyish smile on his face. Skye and Trip flanked him, with Coulson, May, and Ward looking on in the back. They were standing in front of something big. There were birthday decorations strewn across the lab, probably the work of Skye with the help of Ward, begrudgingly.

“Happy birthday, Jemma!” Fitz called out to her as she entered the room.

“Oh Fitz,” Jemma bit her bottom lip. She continued walking until she faced him and the rest of her team.

Skye was the first to part the group and ensnare Jemma in a hug. She began to gush on and on about how terrible she felt ignoring her for the past few weeks.

 

So it was intentional! Jemma thought to herself.

“It was killing me inside to push you away, but oh man, once you see what Fitz made you, you’ll die, it is amazing!” Skye still clutched Jemma.

In her head Jemma thought Skye would need to release her from her death grip so she could see, but she didn’t speak those words. Instead, she humbly thanked Skye for the birthday wishes. Following Skye, Trip and then Coulson gave her a hug, and handed her a card from her parents. Ward and May, not being the hugging types, gave some variation of a pat on the back. May opted to squeeze her on the shoulder. As everyone cleared aside, Jemma was left standing in front of a large, rather strange looking machine. She knew Fitz was all about making things with compact design, so this clunky, closet-sized contraption was something quite strange.

But it was still a marvel.

Jemma shuffled herself a few steps forward, but before going over to investigate the machine further, she turned to Fitz.

“This is a most splendid gift, Fitz,” she said to him, wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug. The heat emanating from his body was comforting, and the gentle touch of his hands on her back felt homely.

 

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” he softly laughed into her ear.

Pulling away from the hug, Jemma shrugged.

“I didn’t need to, to know that you put a lot of work into it. Heck, I thought you didn’t want me around anymore because you didn’t want to work with me anymore. But now that I know that you did it to make me something beautiful, I’m rather speechless,” Jemma added.

Fitz guided her over to the machine with a hand placed on her back. He began pointing out specifications on it that he was particularly proud of. The other agents in the room could only look on, they were mere witnesses whenever Fitzsimmons were linked up.

Jemma would trace imaginary lines on the machine where Fitz pointed to a part. Her love of science always rendered to a realm of wonderment.

“And what does it do?” Jemma finally asked.

“That! That is a good question,” Fitz said sprinting across the room to wave over Skye and Coulson.

“To explain that to you I need to explain events that took place in New Mexico, to the first time Thor came to visit the Earth,” Coulson began. He didn’t look directly at Jemma, but off to the side, as if visualizing the memory.

“Thor, and any Asgardian who cares to visit our Earth, use a route they call the Bifrost. When it initially appeared, Dr. Jane Foster took a series of readings. S.H.I.E.L.D. confiscated her work during our investigation, and we sent over her scientific recordings, findings, and data to our science department, to which it mulled there until recently,” Coulson explained.

“Coulson alone couldn’t access the files, so Fitz turned to me to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D. and retrieve the data,” Skye picked up the story.

"Fitz and I looked at the information together but there were so many components to the Bifrost that I needed to develop an enterprise software to sift through the data and get Fitz what he needed,” she said.

Finally, Fitz took over the story.

“We did it, we cracked open the Bifrost and I discovered how to replicate its dimension-jumping mechanisms. I harnessed the premise, and, in short, I built you your very own TARDIS,” Fitz beamed.

“My –what?” Jemma said in disbelief. She turned to look at the machine again. It wasn’t the Doctor’s Tardis that was for sure.

“And it has been tested numerous times with perfect results… how did you expect your breakfast to be warm if we were all down here?” Fitz divulged.

Fitz stood there with his hands on his hips, his body leaning forward ever so slightly at his midriff. He was eager to see if she liked it or not.

“We can go anywhere at any time, there are a few limitations, but I’m certain you won’t pick a place with limitations,” he continued to speak.

In Jemma’s mind there was one time in particular she wanted to visit. She knew there were hundreds and time and places throughout time she would’ve wanted to visit. Someone of them was such small moments that they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact time or location. Oh how she would’ve loved to see the first creatures crawling out of the ocean, or observe the dinosaurs, but there was one realistic human she would love to meet. She hesitated to say where she wanted to go, knowing the eye rolls and unsurprised sighs she would be met with.

It was easy for Jemma to believe that Fitz had accomplished this. She had grown up always believing in science. From an early age she’d dispel the tricks of magicians at other children’s parties. When she was teased for her, her mother swooped her up and told that magic is just science we haven’t discovered yet. And Jemma always wanted to discover.

“I’d like to visit Peggy Carter,” Jemma said, after allowing enough time to pass in the room for a sigh of relief to pass over the agents. She took a side-glance over to Coulson who was stifling the biggest smile. It encouraged Jemma.

“Well, all right, let’s go!” Fitz ad bounded across the room and was pushing knobs and typing in codes exuberantly.

“Who is Peggy Carter?” Skye piped up in the corner. This prompted concerning glances at Skye, and then at Ward who was supposed to be teaching her these kinds of things.

“She’s the reason S.H.I.E.L.D. exists, Skye. Peggy Carter is one of the founding members of the organization, if not the most principal member,” Coulson answered. He had on the same smile he gets whenever he talks or sees something Captain America related. Skye knew then that this lady must be a big deal.

“And my grandmother,” Trip squeezed in.

“Yes, Trip, we know you are super legacy,” Coulson replied with just a tinge of jealously.

Looking impressed Skye nodded her head. Then she posed a rather interesting question to the prospective time travelers.

“What are you guys going to wear to the 1940’s or whenever?”

Fitzsimmons shared a stare with the same telepathic thoughts.

“Easy, Fitz will wear a suit and I will raid the undercover closet,” Jemma replied.

“…If that’s okay with you, Sir,” she added, turning to Coulson for his approval.

“Of course, Jemma, May can take you there in a bit,” he smiled.

Skye answered with spurting noises.

“And you can go too,” he sighed, giving in to her incessant whimpers.

Soon after, the trio, headed by May, rushed over to the undercover closet. Few people held the keys for the room after it had been abused by non-undercover agents years ago during drunken bonding nights. May was one of the few keepers of the keys. Once May unlocked the doors, Skye and Simmons ran amok amongst the racks. There were clothes from every generation, every size, color, cut, and style. It was a fairytale.

“Back at Sci-Ops we’d always talk about undercover closets like this. Scientists never get to go undercover so we never had a chance of going in here before,” Jemma gushed, putting on a rather tall stovepipe hat. Skye was fitting herself with a coconut bra a few aisles down.

“This is CANDYLAND,” Skye called back, her voice far away.

May stood close to the door, arms folded, convincing herself not to roll her eyes at their immaturity. She would never admit how many times she snuck down here to play dress up when there wasn’t anything else to do. She wondered if the snakeskin leather pants were still down here, and if she still looked damn good in them. (The answer is yes to both of those thoughts). 

After setting aside several silly outfits, like bellbottoms and a bear mascot uniform, Jemma stumbled onto the area teaming with fedoras.

“Fedoras are for douchebags, don’t wear one!” Skye called from across the room seeing Jemma tilt one on top of her head.

“Fedoras are the cool ones actually, the silly ones are called trillby’s. I don’t think I’m quite fit for either of the two, unfortunately,” Jemma corrected.

“Hey, May! I found the perfect dress for you, since I know you love sparkly!” Skye teased, changing the subject.

In her hands, Skye held up a Jessica Rabbit styled dress.

“Jemma, hurry it up or I will hurry it up for you,” May scoffed.

Jemma grabbed an outfit she estimated to be her size. She quickly scanned the men’s racks to see if there was anything to add to Fitz’ suit, she grabbed suspenders and a fedora, not a trillby. She scurried out of the 1940’s corner and to the exit where May was. They waited a moment for Skye to catch the drift, but she was too preoccupied making faces in a mirror wearing a mohawk wig.

“Skye!” May yelled. And when May yells, you obey. Skye knew better now to dawdle, she stuffed the items wrapped around her body and scurried over like a disobedient child. May shuffled the two out and then locked the door after them.

“We’ll have to do that again sometime,” Skye gushed.

Jemma changed into the outfit and added a few vintage accessories passed down from her grandmother. She pulled her hair into a ballerina bun, added some dramatic make-up and felt good enough to turn back time. Returning to the lab, everyone was already down there, and they were excited to see the look Jemma pulled together in a flash. Upon arrival, everyone gave positive feedback, and Fitz’ jaw nearly unhinged itself.

“Are we all settled to go?” Jemma asked, the attention was making her slightly uncomfortable.

“Y-yes we are, I have to grab the return device…” Fitz was stuffing something into a plain brown suitcase. Trip had lent them some of his grandfathers spy supplies.

Jemma inched closer to the machine, it was hitting her how bizarre this really was. Fitz clicked away on some screens. The machine jolted to life, repelling Jemma a few inches back from it.

“Aaaaaaaaaand we’re good to go!” Fitz said monitoring the gauges.

He dashed over to Jemma and opened the door that had been in front of her.

Jemma took a glance around the lab one last time before stepping into the machine. Skye called out to have a good birthday and moments after the door closed behind her, the world around her dematerialized.

“It’s a bit bumpy,” Fitz said, his teeth chattering. Disorientation began to set in with Jemma. It was cramped inside the machine and she had to partially lean on Fitz to keep her balance.

Soon, the rattling stopped and light funneled into the chamber. Fitz looked at his monitors on the side panel. Almost instantaneously a smile breeched his face.

“Welcome to 1946, Jemma,” Fitz said, opening the door.

Jemma was first to step out, and her heel sank into the soil. Looking around she noticed they were in the middle of a field. At the very edges of the field were larger buildings.

“Fitz, why are we in Central Park?” Jemma asked, scanning the surroundings.

“Because, Jemma, this isn’t Doctor Who time travel. If you travel anywhere too close to a building, you may end up in that building – or worse spliced in its walls. So we have to opt for an open location – now lemme just put the cloaking device on and then we can make it down to the SSR and locate Peggy, Coulson gave me a couple of old time SSR badges, I think they’ll hold up,” Fitz scurried around.

“Wow, we’re really in 1946!” Jemma squealed. She was about to have a Sound Of Music moment twirling in the grass.

Once the machine was safely hidden from vision, the pair walked to the outskirts of Central Park, it wasn’t as difficult to navigate, New York City’s street structure has been pretty much the same for decades. The unfortunate part was they had to trek all the way downtown, and they didn’t have any cash on them.

They reached the phone company building by noon. Every so often they had to stop to take a picture. A broach in the spy gear Trip had lent them had a secret lens in it so Jemma could take pictures. And she took a lot.

They waited for a few minutes across the street from the building, practicing their story, hoping to goodness they could fool a room full of SSR agents.

The pair walked shoulder to shoulder across the street and Fitz held open the door for Simmons. On their walk downtown Fitz reminded Simmons she needed to tone down her acting, she couldn’t take it to the levels she had when they were on the train in Italy. The building opened to an elaborate lobby, there was a secretary desk at the end where two women were seated, stamping papers.

“I forgot there were no computers at this time,” Jemma whispered to Fitz. The echo in the lobby was astounding, but luckily it didn’t reach the two ladies.

When they reached the desk, Jemma made to speak, but Fitz put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She shut her mouth immediately.

“Hello, Ma’am, we’re from the Midwest division and we are here to inspect the facility,” Fitz tried to pick his words carefully, not sure how much these secretaries knew went on behind the scenes here.

“Oh, sure! Do you have badges? Midwest division… we haven’t had visitors from there in awhile,” the secretary said. Fitzsimmons bought took their badges out and prayed.

“Oh, yes, we recently transferred there from England, the department wanted to send us over to visit the New York Office,” Fitz lied. He was quite good at it. The secretary handed back their badges without so much a glance.

“Ethel, would you be a dear and escort these two to the office? Check with Mr. Dooley’s secretary for his schedule,” the secretary said to the other.

The other secretary was matronly in figure, and her face was set in a permanent scowl. She waved Fitzsimmons to follow her and they did so without saying a word.

The secretary took them through a windy passageway and a wall that ended up being a door after all. Up a few flights of stairs, through a phone switchboard room filled with ladies, the SSR office was planted as clear as day and didn’t feel very covert at all.

And there they were, standing in an open room, the big SSR emblem facing them on an opposing wall. There were a dozen or so desks, a boardroom off to the side, and several offices on the other. Jemma scoped out the room, her eyes passing on each desk, straining to find one woman among the masses. Some of the desks were unoccupied but haphazardly stacked with papers and massive files.

“Do you see her?” Jemma whispered giddily to Fitz. He was scanning too.

“No, not yet, shouldn’t be that hard…” he replied.

However, a woman in the SSR office draws quite the attention, and the eyes of the agents at the desks returned the inquisitive stares. Jemma stiffened, feeling discomfort of the situation. It was as if the room had dropped 20 degrees.

“Who are you?” one of the men at the desks closest to them said, bounding up to the duo.

Fitz was about to speak when this time Jemma interjected.

“We’re from the Midwest office, new transplants there actually. We’ve come to see the workings of the New York branch to assess preparedness. And you are…?” Jemma spoke with confidence, her shoulders straightened out, her voice solid. Fitz could still sense her trembling, but it was only because he knew her at times better than he knew himself.

The agent was rendered speechless, stammering to respond. It was evident he wasn’t used to being talked to so sternly by a woman. Probably outside of Peggy Carter anyway.

“Jeez, they’ve got women everywhere now,” another agent said coming out from one of the offices. He stopped and stood next to the blustering agent.

“I’m Agent Thompson and you are?” the agent continued, sticking his hand out to Fitz. He seemed to pass over Jemma completely.

“I’m Agent Fitz, an engineer for the Midwest branch and this is my partner Agent Simmons, biochemist,” Fitz returned the handshake begrudgingly. But he looked at Jemma. She extended her hand out next. Thompson passed over it, but Jemma kept her hand up.

“Well, Agent Thompson it looks like you are forgetting to shake a hand,” a third voice, British, and undeniably belonging to Peggy Carter intercepted.

Appearing almost out of nowhere, Peggy Carter emerged and widened the group. The first agent Fitzsimmons had spoken to slipped away, and headed to one of the offices. Thompson, now called out on his limiting behavior, begrudgingly shook Jemma’s hand. Jemma smiled as sweet as she could at it, and even lifted her eyebrows dramatically. She then turned to Peggy, and her smile changed from scathing to excited.

“And you’re Agent Carter! At our office you are quite the celebrity!” Jemma gushed. Fitz imagined her eyes bulging out and becoming heart-shaped.

“What, Agent Simmons means to say is… is we had… we had Pinky Pinkerton and Gabe Jones visit recently and he regaled us with some war stories. You pack quite a wallop if understood, Agent Carter,” Fitz was pulling things from the top of his head. He slipped in Gabe Jones to see if her face lit up, knowing Peggy would eventually marry him in a few years. He didn’t catch anything though, probably since it was still so soon after Steve Roger’s death.

Peggy let a small appreciative smile respond for her.

“Well, Agent Thompson, did you ask why they are here or have you just been standing around criticizing agents you’ve just met?” Carter said.

Jemma was already in full admiration mode.

“Are you here to see Chief Dooley or what?” Thompson said, folding his arms and acting suddenly very disinterested in the conversation.

“We’re here to critique your office,” Fitz fibbed.

It was another nail in the coffin for Thompson, but he rebounded.

“Well, I’ll leave you to critique Carter first as I have actual work to do,” Thompson gifted as his parting words.

“I’d like to make excuses for him if there were any I could make. I’m Agent Peggy Carter, is there anything specific you need from us today? I don’t recall their being an out of office assessment today,” Peggy formally said. She shook both their hands. Jemma looked down at her hand like she would never wash it again.

“We’d like to take a tour of the office and see how conducive the agents are, it’s unannounced because we don’t want any special preparations being made,” Fitz explained.

“I’ll see if Chief Dooley is available, stay here,” Peggy replied.

Peggy turned away curtly and Jemma stared in bewilderment.

“Earth to Jemma, Earth to Jemma,” Fitz flapped his hand in front of Jemma’s face to see if he could get any response.

“This is-- this is... the best birthday present in the whole world, Fitz,” her voice as excited as if she had discovered the Higgs-Boson particle.

In a few moments, Peggy returned. She was alone.

“Dooley is unavailable, but he has entrusted me to give you the tour,” Peggy informed.

“Agent Yauch, please forward my calls,” she turned to the agent Fitzsimmons had first encountered who was sitting within earshot. He didn’t look too pleased with the order.

Peggy Carter proceeded to give them a tour of the office, which wasn’t so large after all. The basement with records was much larger and there were times when either Fitz or Simmons would nudge the other to point out something S.H.I.E.L.D. has, perhaps because it was traditional of the SSR and Peggy decided to keep it. The scientific lab was especially exciting, Jemma looked at Fitz constantly. She wanted to scream out about how much the technology has grown but she couldn’t. It was paralyzing for her not to be able to gab on and on.

At the end of the tour, Peggy escorted them to the lobby.

“Well, I suppose this concludes the tour, is there anything else you need Agent Simmons and Agent Fitz?” Peggy asked.

Before Fitz or Simmons could respond, Agent Thompson and a team of agents rushed passed them. Agent Sousa, at the rear struggling to keep up with the group, paused to fill Peggy in.

“We just got a tip about a possible Soviet training facility here in New York, the kind that trains little girls into assassins, I thought you may be interested in knowing since you discovered the facility,” Sousa said.

Peggy was wide-eyed.

“Where is it located?” she asked.

“Central Park,” Sousa said. He hobbled off to catch up with the other agents.

“Our ride is close to the Park, we can accompany you, lend a scientific hand if need be,” Jemma piped up. She was jumping at the opportunity to be in the field with the legendary Agent Carter.

“Sousa!” Peggy called. He stopped just before exiting the building.

“We’re taking these agents with us,” Peggy stated. Sousa didn’t even question her authority, he allowed he a moment to get her gear from the office while he brought his car around. Fitzsimmons in the meantime mumbled to each other about who Sousa may be. When Sousa brought his vehicle around, they piled into the backseat. Peggy hopped in the front, sporting a leather jacket, and a small knapsack.

Simmons struggled to search for a seatbelt, but she realized the car had none.

“This is very dangerous,” she said to Fitz about the seatbelt situation, bot the actual mission they were going on.

As Sousa raced his car uptown, he decided to probe the agents in his backseat.

“So you are from the Midwest division?” he asked.

“Yes, transferred not too long ago from the good old UK, actually,” Fitz said.

“And your names?” Sousa cut his sentence short just as he cut off a cab. Jemma clutched the edge of her seat.

“I’m Agent Jemma Simmons,” she swallowed, trying to drown her nerves in the conversation.

“I’m Leo Fitz,” Fitz responded, he shuddered slightly at the sound of his first name, he was so not used to it.

“They’re scientists,” Peggy added, nonchalantly.

“Daniel, how do we know about this training facility?” Peggy asked, commandeering the conversation.

“A young girl had been snatched in Harlem, she was brought to an underground bunker of some sorts but managed to escape. She described some of the things that you and Agent Thompson recorded at the Russian facility,” Sousa explained.

“How did this little girl escape?” Peggy asked.

“She said she just ran out when no one was looking,” Sousa said.

Jemma could see Peggy’s eyes widened through the rear-view mirror.

“Daniel, step on it,” Peggy ordered, her voice a cause of alarm. She had worked out that it was a trap for the agents.

By the time they reached the address, the other agent’s cars were parked out front, but no one was in them. Peggy pulled out her firearm, she instructed Fitzsimmons to stay back. Sousa left with her.

“This doesn’t sound very good, Fitz,” Jemma said. It seemed peculiarly silent. Her chipper attitude had greatly diminished. Minutes passed without anything outside stirring. And then, there was Peggy, running at a breakneck speed back to the car, she was alone.

“There’s a bomb, agents are trapped, injured, can you diffuse it?” Peggy was shouting with as much breath as she could muster.

Fitz nodded and flung the door open in a moment. Simmons, catching up to speed, followed suit. It was tough to catch up with Peggy Carter, especially for Simmons who was not used to running in kitten heels.

Inside the compound was a mess, bullet holes dotted the walls. Peggy led them to a room in the basement where Sousa was, crouched over Agent Thompson.

“He’s gonna bleed out,” Sousa said to Peggy as she entered.

“The bomb, the bomb is over there,” Peggy said, kneeling next to Thompson, but pointing to a bomb attached to the boiler. Fitz crossed the room.

“Agent Carter is there anything you can do?” Peggy had dived into action, her hands covering Thompson’s bullet wound.

Jemma practically shoved Sousa aside, and then apologized for it realizing she just pushed a man with a crutch.

“Agent Carter, keep applying pressure to his wound, and keep him conscious,” Jemma instructed. She was checking his airway and then moved on to get a reading of his pulse. Peggy began talking to Thompson, a simple conversation to get him to respond.

“He’s lost quite a bit of blood, he may go into shock, I need to check if there is an exit wound, but we need to get him to a hospital immediately,” Jemma added.

Meanwhile, Fitz was examining the bomb, ticking away less than four minutes now. The older technology was stemming his brain a bit, since he was so used to newer, more complex technology and didn’t have any scanners on him to access it. He uncovered the faceplate to get a better looking at the wiring; the cords were thick, reinforced, and not easy to snap. He located the livewire in moments after but couldn’t tear it with his hands alone.

“A-Agent Sousa, do you have anything sharp, a knife maybe or scissors by any chance. I can’t cut the wire by my hands alone,” he called over.

Sousa had recuperated from Jemma’s shove. He was about to respond to Fitz that he didn’t have any cutting utensil on him when Peggy interjected.

“Sousa, in my bag, take out a black hairbrush. If you unsheathe it is a paring knife. Go!”

Sousa tottered over to the satchel, at Peggy’s side. He crouched as much as he could without getting too close to the ground and began rummaging through it.

“What the heck do you have in here Carter-,” Sousa said, but he found the hairbrush and focused on getting it out and bringing it over to Fitz.

After handing the knife over, Sousa peered over Fitz’ shoulder anxiously as he began to saw through the cord.

 

“Just as I feared, straight-through,” Jemma said, inspecting Thompson’s gunshot wound.

“I could of told you that, Russian’s favor those type of guns,” Peggy added.

“It looks clean though, no bullet fragmentation. As long as we get him to a hospital in the next 15 minutes he will be okay, and as long as Fitz keeps us from blowing up,” Jemma took over applying pressure for Peggy.

“I’m doing my darn best Jemma and you bloody well know that,” Fitz grunted.

The clock on the bomb reached a minute and 15 seconds when Fitz finally cut through it entirely. The largest collective sigh passed over the room.

Fitz and Jemma wasted no time in getting Thompson, who was babbling about nonsense. Peggy kept her hands on his wound. They all walked together topside, where agents were helping other agents an ambulances had begun to arrive on the scene. After getting Thompson into one, Fitz and Simmons looked at each other and knew the other was thinking the same thing; it was time to go.

“Well, Agent Carter, Agent Sousa, it is time we leave for the west, thank you for giving us a tour, and please tell your superior that you are running a fine establishment,” Jemma said brightly.

Peggy extended her hand, still covered in Thompson’s blood.

“The gratitude is all from us, really. Thank you for aiding us, for saving Thompson’s life and diffusing that bomb,” Peggy smiled. Jemma shook her hand eagerly. Fitz and Sousa refrained from shaking any bloody hands, opting for appreciative nods instead.

Fitz and Simmons turned away and headed towards Central Park, feeling very tired and also hungry. Jemma washed her hands off in the bathroom of a nearby diner. When they got back to Fitz’ contraption, they took one last look at 1940’s New York.

“I can’t believe we actually met Peggy Carter, she is just the greatest,” Jemma said.

“I know, but you deserved it Jemma, happy birthday,” Fitz said, facing her.

Jemma turned to Fitz, “it was the best birthday I could have.”

Jemma leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Fitz’ cheek. He could tell he was blushing by the tingle of blood flow. He set two fingers upon where Jemma had just kissed him, and then drew her in for a long hug, kissing the top of her head. He rocked her steadily back and forth in his arms, resting his head atop hers, and her nestled in the knave of his neck.

“And for what it is worth, I think you’re the best.”


End file.
